When It All Falls Apart
by RandmWriter
Summary: "So now, here I am, under a collapsed building, with my best friend right beside me." Sherlock and John, together until the end...


**I DON'T OWN SHERLOCK HOLMES BUT I DO OWN THE CHOCOLATE MILK I DRANK WHILE WRITING THIS...**

**Also, I totally made up some of the medical stuff... :)**

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_**"Friendship is a single soul dwelling in two bodies..." -Aristotle**_

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**I** never really expected it to end this way.

I thought that if I'd die, I'd die in Afghanistan, or I'd get shot, or I'd die doing something brave and noble (or stupid as Mycroft would put it).

I guess things never really do go as planned.

So now, here I am, under a collapsed building, with my best friend right beside me.

* * *

When I first came to consciousness, I was only aware of three things: I had was surrounded by rubble with no way out, my ribs and stomach were on fire - possible internal bleeding - , and I couldn't find Sherlock.

What had happened? All I remember was a case, we were running, we came into a building and then there was this deafening sound...

Oh. A bomb. It must have been a bomb. Yes, that was it. It must have been a trap for us. Wait, what had happened to Sherlock? Did I cover him? Most likely...

"Sherlock?" I was shocked at the croaky sound of my voice. No reply. I started to panic. What if he was injured - or worse. I go through all the scenarios in my head. He could have a broken rib or a punctured lung. A piece of ceiling could've fallen on him. He could be crushed under tons of concrete. He could have a head injury that could cause complications. Also, there was dust inhalation which could cause some trouble. _'Calm down,' _I tell myself.

I tried again, but this time, my voice was less shaky. "Sherlock?"

A few tense seconds later, I heard a reply. "John?" I could have wept in relief. I followed his voice and found a small hole in the debris. I started to crawl over there. That was a big mistake. That was when I felt the sharp pain in my abdomen. Oh god no. I felt something warm trail down the corner of my lips. I touched it and took a look. On my finger was blood. Oh no. Internal bleeding possibly in the stomach caused by broken rib. It must have punctured my stomach. If I didn't get help soon...

I push those thoughts out of my head. Sherlock. How was he?

"John?" I hear him say. "Are you okay?" I did my best to ignore the pain.

"Fine," I lied. It sounded convincing until I jostled the rib a bit and took a sharp breath.

"You don't sound so well," came the reply from the baritone voice. I was almost about to reply when I heard it. I could hear Sherlock panting. Unusual breathing pattern. Was he hurt? What situation was he in?

"Neither do you," I said. "Sherlock, I need you to tell me, what condition are you in?"

I hear him take a shuddering breath. "My leg is pinned by a piece of the ceiling and -argh!"

"Sherlock?!" I said in panic. So he _was_ injured.

"T-there's a metal spike in my leg. It's bleeding and i-it's near the femoral a-arter- Ahh!" Sherlock now full-out yelled, so much pain in his voice. I _never_ wanted to hear that again. I did my best to comfort him.

"Sherlock, relax. Inhale. Exhale. Listen to my voice." I hear him take deep breaths and he begins to calm down.

"What's your situation?" He says. "I told you mine, now tell me yours."

I take a deep breath and speak as calmly as I can. "Internal bleeding in the stomach because of a broken rib, I may go into shock in a while, but other than that I'm alright." Sherlock didn't respond. I understood - if I knew there was some organ in him that got punctured, I wouldn't know what to say too.

"I-I didn't think it would end like this," I say my voice unsteady. I was going into shock.

"Neither did I," Sherlock says. He takes a deep breath. "How long do we have?" He asks calmly.

"I've got about 20 minutes. You, I'd say 40."

"I doubt it, John. I've been like this for a long while now. Also, this place is cramped or I'm just too big for it." Lack of oxygen.

"I guess w-we both have 20 m-minutes then." I sigh. "Lestrade won't get here in time."

"I know John. I know."

Silence followed. I couldn't hear sirens. I couldn't hear cars. I couldn't hear anything from the outside world. All I could hear was two sets of rapid breathing - his and mine.

So this was it? I knew I would never die naturally, but I never thought it would be like this. Death by collapsed building. How exciting.

I taste copper on my tongue, and I wipe the side of my mouth. I see my hand is shaking and pale, but the blood was bright red - like a splash of paint on a clear canvas. I was trembling. Shock. The pain was numbed, but I knew this wasn't good. '_Oh God, please let me live...' _If I didn't calm down I knew this could kill me. I needed to think of something-

"John."

My eyes snap open - when did I close them? - and I see Sherlock's hand poking through the small hole. I drag myself towards it and when our fingers brushed, I could feel myself getting warmer. This was certainly helping. The shock was wearing off. I hold his hand and I start to feel the pain. I hang on for dear life and squeeze his hand hard. When the pain was becoming unbearable, I felt him let go.

'_No Sherlock. Please don't let go. I need you now. It hurts so much! Make it stop!'_

I yell. I yell until my throat feels sore and I feel tears drip down my face. Then I realize I wasn't the only one.

I open my eyes through the pain, and I can see Sherlock more. He's moving around the rocks with a pained look on his face. Why? What on earth was he thinking? Nonetheless - even if I had no idea what was going on - I helped him, and in three minutes, the gap between us disappeared.

I could see him now. He was paler than usual and his pupils were dilated. There was also a pool of blood by his leg. Oh no, it did hit an artery. The wound was bleeding profusely, because he had managed to get the spike out.

I see him trying to move closer, but with a leg wound, he could only do so much. I drag myself towards him and he does the same. We meet and I feel him wrap his long arms around my shaking form, as he shakes as well. I embrace him too. He helped me get through the pain and shock, and I did the same for him. We were each other's personal shock blankets.

"I've got you John," I hear him whisper. "I've got you." I smiled at that. He was not a sociopath at all.

"People will talk a lot." I was rewarded for my efforts when I hear him laugh.

"I don't care," he says, and even though I often say it, I realize, I don't care too. People could talk, people could yell, people could put a bloody megaphone to my ear, but I wouldn't care. I knew he was the reason I was in this situation, but I was okay with it. I had Sherlock Holmes as my best friend, and that itself, was enough.

But that didn't mean I wasn't afraid of dying. I guess everyone is.

_'I. Am. **Dying.**' _That realization hits me like a ton of bricks, and I begin to shake again.

Then I feel someone stroking my dusty hair. I look to see Sherlock hushing me, telling me it was going to be alright, his voice gentle.

"I'm sorry John - for getting you into this." I hear him say, genuine regret lacing his voice. I manage to smile.

"It's okay. No place I'd rather be." I say. It was true. I'd rather die with him than live alone. Nonetheless, I was still terrified at the prospect of death.

"I'm scared Sherlock," I mumble, sounding like a lost child. He holds me tighter and places his chin on my head.

"I know John."

"I didn't expect this to happen."

"Neither did I. Neither did I."

"Are you afraid?"

"No, John. I'm not."

"Why not?"

"Well, you're here aren't you?"

I smile at him, comforted by his words. My vision begins to darken. This was it. I take a deep breath.

"The game, is over," I say. He just smiles.

"I guess it is. It's been an honor playing with you John."

"Same here Sherlock." I sigh contentedly.

Even though I lay here dying, I wouldn't change what was happening if I could. I was alright. We were alright.

I wanted to see him one last time. I guess he wanted to do the same. I look up and our eyes locked for a few seconds. Afterwards, I see the blue orbs gently close and his breathing get slower. I do the same. It was time. Before it all ends, I hear him ask one last thing.

"Together?"

"Together..."

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**_"Together forever, never apart. Maybe in distance, but never at heart..." -Rizal Alan Noor_**


End file.
